


The Sacrifice

by Josselin



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: Nikandros didn’t remember when he had first learned of the tradition of the sacrifice.





	The Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [ on tumblr as a birthday present for Kittendiamore](http://josselinkohl.tumblr.com/post/178342652372/happy-birthday-nikanndros-i-wrote-you-the-first).

Nikandros was from a portion of Akielos called Aiclyps. Aiclyps was not large enough of prominent enough that it was likely to be known in Vere, or in Patras. But Aiclyps had a reputation, in Akielos. It was known for having poor soils, and a series of bad harvests, and for being impoverished and with many residents who had fallen upon hard times. The threat of ending up a beggar in Aiclyps was a metaphorical worst case scenario in talk within the capital. When Nikandros had arrived in Ios as a boy, he had quickly learned that being from Aiclyps was not a thing to be proud of.

Nikandros’s grandmother hadn’t been a beggar, she had been a farmer, but being a farmer in Aiclyps was only slightly better than being a beggar. There were lean years in the spring, where everyone was too thin and eating only root vegetables from the cellar while they worked the planting, hoping for the harvest to grow.

Nikandros’s father Philippos was a swordsman. He had trained in his grandmother’s garden with a stick cut from a tree, when he wasn’t needed in the fields, and when the Kyros had come to Aiclyps looking for boys who were promising candidates for military service, Nikandros’s father had been proud to be selected. And his grandmother had been proud to let his father go. It couldn’t have been easy for her to have sacrificed his labor when every hand was needed on the farm, but whenever she recounted his choosing it was with pride of his selection and pride of what he had become.

When his time along the border had concluded, and Nikandros’s father was settled in Ios as a swordmaster instructing new troops, he had married Nikandros’s mother, Polyxeni. She was not from Aiclyps; she had grown up in the city, and yet she still knew hard work throughout her childhood. Polyxeni had kept a garden in their house outside the city walls, spun wool, helped when it was the season to pick in the orchards, and run errands for merchants in the market. 

Philippos had always told him that one of the things that made Akielos a better country than Vere was that a man who was born to nothing could still make a place for himself in the world.

In Vere, those who were born to wealth grew up in mansions dripping with jewels. When they went to war they placed peasants on the front line and stood behind them in armor that was sometimes equally dripping with jewels.

In Akielos, those who were born to wealth were still expected to prove themselves on the battlefield. And those who were born with nothing had an opportunity to distinguish themselves next to those who had been born with everything.

Philippos had made a name for himself that way. Nikandros and his sisters had grown up in Ios while his father trained new troops for King Theomedes. When his father had the opportunity, he trained Nikandros, as well, and Nikandros tried to impress his father.

There had been another boy almost his age also training hard and trying to impress his father, and that was how the grandson of a farmer grew up next to the future king.

Philippos hadn’t lived to see Nikandros made the kyros of Delpha after it’s reclamation, so the proudest he had ever been of his son had been when Nikandros had been selected to serve at the Kingsmeet. It was the greatest honor for a young soldier to be selected—only the worthiest were chosen. Damen had been jealous, when Nikandros had been selected, and swore that he was going to follow Nikandros a year later when he was old enough. Damen had been an impressive enough fighter that he would have been able to earn a place in the trials, but he had not come. Nikandros had heard later that King Theomedes had forbidden it.

Damen had treated Nikandros as a brother. He had trained with him, and played with him, and helped him when he was sick and shared the favors and privileges of being a prince with Nikandros without ever mentioning it. When Nikandros’s sister had been sick, Damen had sent the palace physician to go and tend to her. Nikandros suspected that when King Theomedes had awarded him the position as kyros of Delpha after its capture that Damen’s advocacy had something to do with the honor. It was clear even by that point that he was Damen’s man, and that he would be one of the future king’s advisors. It was better for a king’s advisor to have his own land, Nikandros had heard the echo of his father’s voice as Theomedes gave him the pin. It meant that the advisors had reasons to prize the well being of the land aside from their love of it’s king.

But Nikandros had loved Damen anyway. And Damen had the same companionable ease and competitiveness with Nikandros that he had had with his actual brother Kastor.

Yet Nikandros had never forgotten their positions. He wasn’t a prince; he wasn’t actually Damen’s brother. He suspected that Kastor had never forgotten it either, and he had tried to tell as much to Damen. Damen hadn’t listened. Damen had never been especially good at listening.

Nikandros didn’t remember when he had first learned of the tradition of the sacrifice. It had been before he had met Damen, when he was very small. Before he had left his mother’s nursery and joined the training of the boys in the field. His mother Polyxeni had probably told him the story the way she had told any number of others. It was the same way he could not remember when he had first heard about the accomplishments of great Queen Eradne, or the myth about the great runner who was so fast he was set into a pattern of the stars after his death. There was a famous story about the sacrifice of Niko, who young Nikandros had been fascinated since his name was similar to Nikandros’s own, perhaps his mother had told that story one evening when Nikandros and his sister were falling asleep.

The idea of the sacrifice was simple. It was a way for the future king to prove himself upon the moment of his coronation. The coronation itself could take place anywhere the king chose--typically Ios, though Theomedes had been crowned on a battlefield. But the sacrifice always took place at the Kingsmeet. The prince came to the Kingsmeet before the coronation to see if his sacrifice would be accepted. When the Kingsmeet pronounced a worthy sacrifice, it was a sign of a good king and was a way to ensure the support of the kyroi. If the Kingsmeet rejected the sacrifice, it was a poor sign. Any prince whose sacrifice had been rejected had been deposed, as far as the stories told. If a prince could not bring with him a willing, worthy sacrifice to the altar, then he had not proven his character and earned the respect necessary to lead the country.

A prince without a sacrifice was turned away, the stories said. And if a prince tried to bring a child, even his own, or a slave, even a treasured one, he was turned away. The sacrifice had to be a free person, who chose to do this for the king. The stories were very clear about that. The sacrifice was interviewed apart from the prince when they arrived at the Kingsmeet. The prince had to wait while the elders at the Kingsmeet were satisfied. Then the caliber of the sacrifice’s character, the willingness of the sacrifice, and the honor with which the prince carried out slaying the sacrifice at the altar were all evaluated, and the Kingsmeet elders announced this when they presented the prince back to his people. 

The sacrifice was a time-honored tradition in Akielos. It was an important lesson about selflessness and service. Nikandros had overheard Theomedes speak to Damen about it, and Theomedes was grave when he spoke of it and Damen similarly grave when he listened.

The sacrifice was also why Nikandros’s parents had never been pleased by his friendship with the Akielon crown prince. Philippos had been proud, at first, that Nikandros had impressed the master and his classmates in the training boys underwent in Ios. Damen’s attention had been a sign of this, and another source of pride. The prince would only be friends with an impressive classmate; the king would only permit their ongoing association if he felt Nikandros was worthy. Apparently Nikandros was, for being paired by the training master to partner in wrestling developed over a period of weeks and months into being fast friends.

Philippos and Polyxeni grew increasingly distressed, and Polyxeni tried to broach her concerns with her son. “Perhaps you should make other friends,” she told Nikandros. “Seek to know the other boys in training. Make their acquaintance and be friendly to them.”

“I am friendly to them,” said Nikandros, and it was true, though he spent all of his leisure time with only one other boy. 

His mother tried other subtle persuasions, which had no effect.

Philippos tried a command. “You are not to spend so much time with the prince.”

This led Nikandros, who felt quite clever about it, to persuade Damen to order him to spend time with Damen, and then Nikandros informed his father that he had been obliged to disobey Philippos’s command because his prince had commanded it.

Nikandros had felt smug, but Philippos was very grave. “A prince cannot command your respect, Nikandros,” he said. “It must be earned.”

But Damen had earned it. Nikandros had already been impressed with Damen when they were boys, when Damen was two years younger than he was and yet just as strong and sometimes cleverer. 

Polyxeni finally cried. When Nikandros asked his mother what was wrong, she said, “The sacrifice!” and Nikandros did not understand. “I do not wish to lose you,” she said. 

Nikandros blinked. “It is an enormous honor,” he said, “to be chosen.”

His mother nodded but she was still crying. “Let the honor go to someone else,” she begged. “Has he spoken of it, to you?”

“He has not,” said Nikandros shortly, and he did not speak of it with his parents again, though he could feel their grief, sometimes, when they looked upon him and Damen together. It was a palpable thing in the air, like the mist that sometimes came down from the mountains, an oppressive feeling of their unhappiness.

Nikandros thought of it, often, but he and Damen spoke of it never.

Nikandros thought of it when the slaves sang of Nico’s sacrifice, or when Theomedes mentioned Damen being king one day, or when the training masters told them what an honor it was to serve at the Kingsmeet, or when Damen smiled warmly at anyone who was not Nikandros. 

Nikandros thought of it whenever Damen spoke of the future. Damen was always dreaming. Damen had many ideas of the campaigns they were going to fight together, the land they were going to claim, the way they might fight Vask back if the clans attacked outright. As they grew older, Damen spoke of the slaves they might bed, and the women they might woo, and the children they might have.

It pained Nikandros to hear Damen speak of these things. Sometimes he longed to speak of it. When Damen painted a picture of their children playing together when he saw toddlers in the market, Nikandros wanted to say, “Does that mean you will not choose me?” with the full depth of the hurt and jealousy that lived in his heart at the thought. 

But it was not his place to raise the subject with Damen. It was Damen’s choice, and Damen’s prerogative to discuss if he wished. That was the right of the prince. Damen might have chosen someone else, Nikandros told himself. Or Damen might consider the matter far in the future and not have made any kind of decision. Theomedes was only a man in middle age, Damen might not be crowned for another thirty years.

Nikandros had been thinking of the sacrifice more, for a time, because Theomedes had been sick and ailing. It was natural to think of Damen taking the crown, and the traditions that accompanied it. 

But then, Damen was dead. 

Nikandros risked death to steal Damen’s pin, and in part he hoped he’d be caught. He had thought so many times of the sacrifice and his own death--he had never imagined Damen’s death. He had never allowed himself to imagine Damen’s death. The road ahead suddenly seemed long and hard and lonely.

He wished to return to Delpha, but the kyroi were expected to stay in Ios for the coronation. The time passed for Nikandros in a haze of grief. He thought, at one point, who had Kastor sacrificed? He knew Kastor’s friends and companions, and he cast an eye around the assembled guests to see if one of them was missing, and he could not determine it. There had been no rumors about Kastor’s sacrifice, no hum of marvel about how impressive it had been, how worthy Kastor was. Nikandros wondered if he’d even done it. Maybe he hadn’t. It was just another reason to doubt Kastor’s ability to rule Akielos effectively given the suspicious circumstances of Theomedes and Damen’s deaths. Nikandros returned to Delpha.

And then, Damen was alive.

Alive and with a ridiculous Veretian haircut and an infuriating refusal to take off a golden slave cuff. There were so many things to speak of, in their first moments together. Taking Ravenel, the plans for moving out, logistics of the troops and the supplies, all of his questions about what had happened to Damen and how he had come to be there.

Yet when they had a quiet moment together, Nikandros said, “You plan to take back your crown?” 

“Yes.” Damen nodded gravely.

Nikandros nodded, feeling pleased. Something that had been wrong for a long time within him had finally been righted.

There were rumors, about Kastor’s sacrifice. It was all part of the country’s dissatisfaction with him. As Makedon was feeling Damen out as his king, Nikandros saw them have a conversation. 

Makedon said, “You will hold to the old traditions, as king?”

“Yes,” said Damen.

“You will make the sacrifice?” Makedon was eyeing the Veretian prince thoughtfully as he said this.

“Of course,” said Damen, though his eyes didn’t follow Makedon’s.

Makedon grunted an approval and left.

Damen and Nikandros still never spoke of it. They didn’t speak of it when Damen went to the Kingsmeet with Laurent on his insane mysterious errand, though Nikandros almost couldn’t hold his tongue and asked, then. Laurent returned, alone, and for a terrible moment Nikandros thought that Damen had been the sacrifice to give them this other king.

They didn’t speak of it when Damen returned from the Kingsmeet, and they didn’t speak of it after Kastor’s death and during Damen’s recovery from being stabbed. 

Damen recovered, and snuck away to the summer palace with his lover, and returned, and he was still being styled officially as prince. He and Laurent began to plan a coronation, and Damen still did not speak of it. Laurent spoke to Nikandros of a role that Nikandros might play in the coronation ceremony, and Nikandros wanted to understand what that meant. Did Laurent not know the tradition? Or did he, and he had spoken to Damen, and Damen was not planning the sacrifice any longer? Or he was planning it, but it was not to be Nikandros?

“Have you spoken of this with Damen?” said Nikandros.

“Damen does not care where men stand at the coronation,” said Laurent, as though Nikandros were being ridiculous.

Still Damen and Nikandros did not speak of it. 

When the coronation was only a fortnight away, Nikandros was giving Damen a report and only Laurent was there also. Nikandros finished the report and waited to be dismissed. Damen turned to him, and his eyes were dark and serious. “Old friend,” he began, his eyes holding Nikandros’s.

Nikandros waited.

“I have been thinking of the old ways, and the tradition of the sacrifice.” The words were a statement, and the tone of his voice made it a statement, but Nikandros understood it to be a question.

“Yes,” he said, quickly.

Damen’s eyes still held his. “Thank you.”

“The honor is mine,” said Nikandros. 

Damen reached out, and grasped his forearm, and Nikandros clasped Damen’s forearm in return, and they held the grip and their gazes for a long moment.

“I should--speak to my mother and sister,” said Nikandros, finally. 

Damen’s grip on Nikandros’s arm loosened. “Of course.”

Nikandros turned to Laurent before he left the room. The Veretian prince had been half-watching the proceedings. “I am entrusting Damen to you,” he said.

Laurent met his gaze evenly, though he quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “While you visit your mother?” he said.

Nikandros did not answer, and took his leave.


End file.
